I breaks it down to the bone gristleIll speaking Scud missile heat seekingJohnny Blazing, nightmares like Wes CravenNiggas gunning, my third eye seen it coming before it happenYou know about them fucking Staten kids, they smashingEverything huh, in any shape form or fashionNow everybody talking bout they blasting, hmmmIs you busting steel or is you flashing, hmmmTalking out your assholeYou shoulda learnt about the flow and peasy afroTicallion stallion, chinky-eye and snot-nosedFrom my naps to the bunion on my big toeI keeps it moving, know just what the fuck I'm doingRap insomniac, fiend to catch a nigga snoozingSlip the cardiac arrest me, exorcist hip-hop possess meCrunch a nigga like a Nestle, you know my steezBurning to the third degree, sneaky ass alley cat top pedigreeThe head toucher, industry party bum rusherYou don't like it dick up in you fuck ya

I slayed MC's back in the rec room eraMy style broke motherfucking backs like Ken PateraMost rap niggas came loud but unheardOnce I pulled out, round em off to the nearest thirdCheck these non-visual niggas, with tapes and a portraitFlood the seminar, trying to orbit this corporateIndustry, but what them niggas can't seeMust break through like the Wu, unexpectedlyProtect Ya Neck, my sword still remain imperialBefore I blast the mic, RZA scratch off the serialWe reign all year round from June to JuneWhile niggas bite immediately if not soonSet the lynching, and form the execution dateAs this two thousand beyond slang suffocateAmplify sample through vacuum tubes compressionsCause RZA, to charge niggas twenty G's a session

When my mind start to clicking and the strategyIs mastered the plot thickens, this be that Wu shitI don't give a cotton-pickin' FUCKAbout a brother tryin to size a nigga up, I hold my ownHard-hat protect your domeLook at Mama baby boy acting like he grownNo time for sleep, I gets deep as a baritoneKilla bee, that be holding down his honeycomb, lounging sonWu brother number one, protect your neckFlying guillotines here they come, bloody bastardsHard times and killer tactics, spitting words plusSemi-automatic slurs, peep the graphicNovel from the genie bottle, hit the clutchShift the gear now, full throttle, time to bungeeTo the next episode, I keeps it grungyHand on my nut sack, and spitting lunghiesAt a whack nigga dat, don't understand the factWhen it come to RZA tracks I don't know how to actReal rap from the Stat, killa hill projectsHow to be exact, break it downAll in together nowThings are getting good looking better now